Uncertainties
by Zoe Mae
Summary: Sara contemplates her sanity after “Committed.” Starts off with just Sara’s POV. GSR, and continues from my version in “We Have to Risk Everything.”


DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters, much to my dismay.

FEEDBACK: Any and all feedback welcome. (Thank you to all those who commented on my first piece. So very much appreciated!!)

SUMMARY: Sara contemplates her sanity after "Committed." Starts off with just Sara's POV. GSR, and continues from my version in "We Have to Risk Everything."

AUTHORS' NOTES: Just a quick short story that sprang on me impulsively. Missing scene from "Committed," tiny reference to "Blood Drops." I may add more later, but this is what I have for now.

* * *

**Uncertainties  
**  
The thunder continued to rumble outside. The weather seemed to mimic the day's events: stormy, unpredictable, terrorizing. Something from which to take shelter. From inside she watched, seeing not the rain that trickled down the glass, but crimson, pouring out onto the floor.

_Are you a spiritual person?  
_  
Sometimes, she had answered. When I used to pray for my life, she thought, like I may have to right now. I never did believe there was a god, but I always prayed that someone would save me. I prayed for salvation, and I witnessed a murder.

Was this how my father felt, moments before my mother stabbed him? To see the knife, like that piece of ceramic, hovering so close, looming like eternity? Did he even see it coming?

Did my mother have that look in her eyes, the look that Adam Trent had as he threatened to end my life? The look he had right before he cut his own throat?

Crimson on the floor of the insane asylum. Crimson on the walls of her parents' room, on the floor where her daddy lay sleeping.

But he's not sleeping.

_You don't sleep, do you?  
_  
Every night it's been the same. I close my eyes, and I'm 11 years old, seeing all the blood, and the all pain. Death and insanity, they are interchangeable. They haunt me when I'm alone.

Crimson when I close my eyes at night. But, no, I'm not sleeping either.

Sara's long frame seemed so small as she curled up at the end of Grissom's couch, huddled under a blanket. She shook, not from the cold, but from the scene from earlier at the psychiatric ward. It was all too real, it was all too much, and it brought back too many memories. Memories of her father. Memories of her mother. Memories of seeing her mother in a place like that. They were all running through her mind like ice water as she stared out the window, not seeing anything anymore, her eyes vacant. She had done so much to block out the past that the memories were like photographs, scattered through her consciousness, faded and tattered. A day like today brought everything back, restoring the photos with vivid colors, adding emotion, sensation, things better left untouched and unremembered.

Grissom was in the kitchen fixing her a mug of tea. Occasionally he turned around to look at her, but all he could see was Adam Trent, his arms wrapped around her, the shard of ceramic pottery held dangerously close to her throat, ready to spill the blood that coursed through her veins. Loving Sara triggered so many emotions that he didn't think he was capable of, and in a few short months, he felt more powerless than he had ever felt before. A lifetime prior had kept him from protecting the woman he loved, and a few short hours ago, a pane of glass had done the same. A simple window, and a key held by the hands of a nervous employee. He worried that his life would be spent just like that, on the outside looking in, seeing Sara's pain and never being able to help. He told himself it was the steam from the boiling water that affected his eyes, but Grissom knew better.

He sat down next to her on the couch and handed her the mug. Sara took it absent-mindedly from his hands, clutching the warmth close to her, trying to warm her soul. When a case had affected her, she pushed through it, reeling herself in when she felt out of control. She may have reacted with emotion, sometimes out of line, but she'd react to keep from fading away. She'd go home to her empty apartment, lie in her bed, and let the blankets wrapped around her provide comfort from the harsh elements of heartache and pain. It was slipping into a coma, her emotions seeping out as she lay so still, enveloped in her past, the shadows dancing in her mind.

And now she had Grissom, the one person who she allowed to see past her defenses, see how much her work affected her. He could now see how the ghosts of her past could reduce her to shadows, wandering through the subsequent hours seeming transparent and intangible. Only the walls had ever seen Sara crumble, as she slid down them to sink to the floor, the weight of an unjust world heavy on her trembling shoulders. Now she could delegate that job to Grissom, who could hold her up as she led him into the darkness where no one had dared to tread.

_Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? That bad things are there to teach us a karmic lesson?  
_  
Adam's words were still churning in her head. What were the reasons for the things that happened in her life? Surely they were things that were beyond her control, none of them warranted, nothing she truly deserved. She was only a child, and she had seen a lifetime of bad things. What did they teach her? Adam's mother had abused him; Sara's father had abused her. Maybe they weren't that different after all. Maybe it was only a matter of time before she ended up in a place like that.

_I think I'm just vibrating at the wrong frequency.  
_  
Sara glanced over at Grissom, who was watching her intently. Maybe this is all wrong. Maybe I should stop this before it starts. Before he sees that I am no different than the one who just attacked me. He doesn't think that genes predict violent behavior, but what if he's wrong? I grew up with violence, I grew up with hatred. Will I be able to give him the love he deserves? Will my unspoken fears become a reality?

_Crazy people do make me feel crazy.  
_  
But her mother wasn't crazy; her mother was pushed too far. What would happen if someone pushed her too far? Could she react like her mother had?

She sipped her tea, letting the warm liquid soothe her. If only it could wash away the sorrow, the uncertainties, the fears that kept her bound to her past. What she wouldn't give to be free of her demons. Each thought pushed her further into herself, and she looked down to watch the ripples in her mug. Entranced in her melancholy, she was retreating from reality.

Grissom had so many questions he wanted to ask her. He felt the same way the night he first learned about her past. Cases like these came along, and he learned a little more. He never pushed Sara to talk about more than she was ready for, always waiting for her to open up and divulge her secrets. Sometimes he felt like he wasn't doing enough, but time and again, Sara reassured him that just having him with her was what she needed, and he accepted that. As someone who always had ample time alone, companionship was something he now revered; aware that she also had been alone, he knew just being there meant more to her than most.

"Sara?" The faraway look in her eyes was starting to make him feel unsettled. He would have been content sitting here in a comfortable silence, but this wasn't comfortable. Her despondency made it feel like she was fading and if he could just coax her to speak, maybe she wouldn't go under.

Sara heard his voice like an echo, ricocheting through the hallways of her mind. She looked at him, and saw the worry in his eyes. But she saw more than that, she saw patience and she saw adoration, his blue eyes at once an oasis for her troubled heart. All at once she felt herself slowly return, as the life started to flood back into her brown eyes.

"Do you know how lucky I am to have you?" She leaned forward to put her mug down, her question somewhat like an afterthought, as if they had already been in conversation. She reached for Grissom's hands, as if placing her gratitude into his open palms to keep, to cherish, to love.

"If it's anything close to how I feel, then yes, I suppose I do."

Sara closed her eyes and let his sentiment linger. All those years she had felt so alone, she never thought that someone could truly care about her. And with her past, she was afraid of caring about someone else, for fear that the past would come back to wreck havoc on her life. There were still so many things she wanted to tell Grissom, so many insecurities she wanted to share because she knew he would reassure her that everything was okay. Ever since admitting his feelings, he was like a different person. It was the kind of relationship she had only dreamed of; being with Gil Grissom was well worth the wait.

Grissom brought his hand up to Sara's cheek, softly tracing it down to her chin with the back of his finger, inhaling slowly before speaking. "I know that I never ask…but…would you like to talk…about today…about anything?"

Today, that was all the prompting that Sara needed, since the words were already playing in her mind. Without hesitating, she spoke.

"I'm afraid that I could end up like that. Committed." Sara's eyes glistened with the long-buried fear, but her voice was calm as if this had been rehearsed many times before. In some ways, it had.

Grissom's eyes crinkled with compassion. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. "Sara, I promise, that's not going to happen to you."

"How can you be so sure? What if I end up like my mother?" She felt her eyes start to burn, her silent trepidations becoming a spoken plight.

"I don't think that's going to happen. You're already different, in so many ways."

"But how?" Her voice a soft whisper, Sara tried to believe Grissom's words, but knew it was not that easy to erase years of what was ingrained. Her father was an abuser; her mother, a murderer. What were her chances of turning out okay?

"Well, first of all, you have me." With that Grissom placed a light kiss on Sara's lips. "I know I don't know everything about your past, but I can promise you this. I would never, ever lay a hand on you. It's not who I am. And I think you know that of me."

She watched his eyes as he spoke, his beautiful blue eyes that held not a trace of malice. "Yes. I do. You're a gentle person. One of the things I've always been drawn to."

"So right there, it's a completely different situation." His voice was calming, like a lullaby. If he had to spend the rest of his years proving she was safe, he would do so. She had seen so much heartache, it was a small price to pay to ensure her happiness.

"I guess." Her eyes were drawn away to the butterflies on Grissom's wall. All her life she had felt like those butterflies, destined to be trapped, never really free. Even though they once were so vibrant, eventually it would be all for show.

Grissom put his hand under her chin to bring her eyes back up to his. "Sara, honey, I promise you, as long as I am with you, I won't let anything happen to you." He let his hand slide up her cheek; selfishly, he loved to touch her, to imbibe the feel of her into his memory, to leave his fingerprints on her skin. Making up for all the lost time he looked without touching. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, a sweet gesture intended to make her feel loved and safe.

Sara closed her eyes and breathed in, drinking in the scent of him so close to her. Being with him was still so new that she relished every kiss, every touch, still finding herself amazed that she finally got the chance to have him with her. She nuzzled close into that kiss, and brought her hands up to gently touch his bearded cheeks. In such a short time, it has become the feeling of familiar, of home.

He brought his lips to her ear, where he placed a whispered quote, " 'One word frees us, of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love.'" A single tear slipped down Sara's cheek, her head all at once dizzy with the love she felt.

Grissom trailed her cheek with his lips, kissing away the single tear. He traced a slow path to her mouth, where he lingered. He kissed her, to breathe life into her, to rouse her from her sullen trance.

Her words were soft, carried on a breathless sigh. "I love you, Gil Grissom."

"I, too, love you, Sara Sidle." He wrapped his arms around her, replacing the blanket that fell from her shoulders. And there they sat, entwined with each other. With Grissom's lips on hers, Sara felt as though one day, she may finally be free.


End file.
